Night of the living debutantes
by Fragilereality
Summary: SS/HG shorts written for the 2017 Quidditch league. 1. Night of the Living Debutantes; 2. Potion Masters do it in the Dungeon 3. The Spy Who Loved Me 4. Strictly come Severus
1. Night of the living debutantes

**A/N This is my entry for round 2 of the Quidditch league and my first ever time writing Severus and Hermione. Thank you so much to ElenaTria for allowing me to use her wonderful image as my cover art. Check out her profile on Deviant Art if you like Severus or Lucius (full link in my profile).**

Round 2: Where are we going

Team: Pride of Portree

Position: Chaser 1

Location: Beauxbatons

Word count: 2961 excluding Author's note

Prompts :

2: (quote) 'Freedom is still the most radical idea of all.'

14: (word) contagious

15: (quote) 'Don't hate me because I'm beautiful. Hate me because I'm beautiful, smart and rich.'

* * *

Severus had a bad feeling about this.

Which was odd considering the castle he approached looked as if Sleeping Beauty herself had fallen asleep within its rose coloured walls. It was a symphony of delicate towers, suspended walkways, and mullioned windows that twinkled as the bright sunlight reflected off the freshly settled snow. It was the perfect backdrop for this year's Tri-Wizard Tournament.

He had learned to be distrustful of beauty.

Despite its façade of loveliness, there was something _wrong_ about the castle. Something imperceptible that caused the hair on the back of his neck to prickle and his large nose to twitch.

His bad feeling was growing worse by the second.

He cursed _the girl_ as he approached the gates. She hadn't been in touch for over a week. Minerva was practically having kittens over the loss of her favourite cub. She had become so insufferable that Severus had been left with no choice but to volunteer to travel to France and check on _the girl_ himself. As if he didn't have better things to do.

Despite the inviting warmth of the late afternoon sun, the grounds were empty. No blue uniformed children cavorted across the rolling lawns, no wood nymphs frolicked, and no black garbed Hogwarts students were to be seen. The weight of the castle's wards; multi-layered, deep and complex stopped him in his tracks. He drew his wand and painstakingly began to untangle them. No enchantment could keep out Severus Snape.

His dragon hide boots crunched loudly on the silver gravel and he ignored the glittering fountains lining the driveway. His sole focus was the completion of his task and getting back to Hogwarts in time for dinner.

Patience was not a virtue he had been blessed with. When his pounding on the studded castle door went unanswered, he waited only a few moments before he shouldered his way into the entrance hallway of Beauxbatons Academy of Magic.

Snape was a cautious man. He would not have survived two wizarding wars, oscillating precariously between the sides of light and dark, had he not developed a nose for danger and a keen sense of self preservation. Unfortunately, on this occasion, his senses were dulled by the, almost overwhelming, irritation he felt toward _the girl_. His need to berate her was foremost in his mind and it led to an uncharacteristic lapse in attention. Which was why he was hit square between the shoulders by a well-aimed stunner. He registered the briefest glimpse of blue robes before he hit the ground.

* * *

" _Ennervate_." The word was thickly accented. He shook his head, simultaneously attempting to clear his vision and to dislodge the dull, clanging ache from his skull. He was surrounded by students, predominately blue robed and female. All beautiful, all staring at him, all brandishing their wands, their expressions universally hostile.

"Genevieve, ee iz awake," the same voice which had woken him, now called out. It came from a small, dark haired girl, who stood with her wand tip pressed against his forehead.

"Thank you, Celine." An older girl stepped forward. Tall, blonde, and glacially cool, she circled Severus, her arms folded across her chest, her wand clasped loosely between her elegant fingers. He swivelled his head, attempting to keep her in his sights. Something dark and unsettling glittered in her eyes.

"Oo are you?" She thrust her face into his and he resisted the urge to flinch away. Her breath was sweet, like chocolate, or recent death.

"That is none of your concern Madam, I am here to see the headmistress."

"Ze 'eadmistress ez gone. I am in charge now."

"And who might you be?"

Her eyes flashed with rage and he knew he had misspoken.

"I am ze 'ead girl, zat is all you need to know, ugly man." She ran the tip of her wand down his cheek.

Severus remained motionless in much the same way as one might when confronted by an angry rhino on a narrow jungle trail. There was something very wrong here. He reminded himself that he had ample experience in dealing with the insane. This stood him in good stead as Genevieve grabbed a handful of his hair and tipped his head backwards, causing the pain in his skull to increase exponentially.

"Are you afraid of me, ugly man?" She pressed her face close to his once more, her sweet breath cloying in his nostrils. "Do you hate me?" Abruptly she released him and stood back, fingering her wand. "Don't hate me because I'm beautiful." She ran her wand tip up the length of his body, pressing it against the erratically beating pulse in his neck. "Hate me because I'm beautiful, smart, _and_ rich." She leaned forward, pressing her wand painfully against the tender, scarred flesh. "And I'm going to make you even more ugly." Her lips grazed his ear.

"Genevieve, that's quite enough."

He had never been more grateful to hear that overbearing tone. Every head in the room swivelled toward Hermione Granger, who stood in the doorway, flanked by several students.

"You!"

Genevieve was magnificent in her ire as she strode toward Granger. Severus' flicker of concern for the safety of the out-numbered know-it-all was short lived and misplaced. Curses flew, explosions detonated around the room, and he found himself free. He drew his wand and dove into the fray.

"Now we run." Granger grabbed his arm and pulled him after her retreating band of students.

They ran along endless corridors, up and down numerous flights of stairs and, terrifyingly, across two of the aerial bridges. Twice they were set upon by groups of students, narrowly missing curses as they continued to flee. Finally, when his heart was pounding and his knees were loudly protesting that he was much too old for such activity, they flew through a heavy oak doorway which Granger slammed behind them; two of the students immediately set to warding it. Severus dropped to his knees, heaving in great lungfuls of cold air as he clutched his aching chest.

"Professor Granger," he wheezed. "I demand you explain yourself at once."

She was leaning against a stack of books. He snorted at this. Trust Granger to take refuge in a library. Her bedraggled appearance aside, she looked most peculiar. Usually she dressed even more prudishly than he, but today she was garbed in baggy muggle jeans and a ripped singlet which displayed more abdomen than he thought appropriate. He squinted, there appeared to be some sort of jewel nestling in her navel.

"Didn't you get my patronus?"

He dragged his eyes away from her midriff and shook his head.

"I sent a patronus to Minerva five days ago, did it not deliver my message?"

"I can assure you it did not. Minerva has been beside herself with worry at your lack of communication."

"The little bastards must have messed with the wards." There was an element of admiration in her voice.

Severus pulled himself to his feet in order to loom over his colleague in his most intimidating manner. "If I have to ask you again, Granger, I will not be responsible for my own actions. What the hell is going on?"

"It started about a week ago." Her voice was flat, defeated. "The students became infected with a sort of contagious hysteria. It spread rapidly and by the time we realised what was happening most of the faculty were affected, and it was too late to stop it."

"Contagious hysteria?" He pinched the bridge of his nose.

She shrugged. "I don't know how else to describe it. A complete lack of impulse control and conscience. That's saying something, since teenagers often act like psychopaths at the best of times. Well, you saw for yourself. "

"It's like bloody Lord of the Flies."

"It's more Planet Earth," she responded. "Did you see any boys?"

He frowned and shook his head. "Where are they?"

"A few of them joined Genevieve; there is a rival faction led by Durmstrang's head boy somewhere in the East tower. Most are in the dungeons, though."

"The dungeons?" he parroted with an inanity that grated on his own nerves.

"In females, the curse manifests primarily as an obsession with physical appearance and exacerbated schoolgirl rivalry. The boys, however, become..." She blushed and looked away. "Er, rather _amorous_. Genevieve didn't like that and had them confined. They're probably safer down there, away from the girls."

Severus nodded thoughtfully. "And why are you not affected, Professor Granger?"

"Of course I'm affected," she snapped. "Do you think I normally dress this way?" She gesticulated at her outfit. "My love of contemporary rap music and wish to represent is manifesting in my appearance, and speech. Know what a'hm sayin' yo?" She made a complicated hand gesture before she bent over and took several deep breaths, as if to compose herself. " _I_ at least have a modicum of control, unlike the purebloods. They are completely insane."

"And the half-bloods?" He felt a flicker of dread.

"The incubation period is longer, but you will eventually succumb."

He gave a deep sigh. "How long do I have?"

"A few hours at best. Your skill in Occlumency might help."

He looked around the room, taking in the rag-tag bunch of students who surrounded them. Several had been part of the Hogwarts contingent Granger had taken to Beauxbatons in order to compete in the Tri-Wizard tournament. A few were dressed in the red of Durmstrang, or the blue of Beauxbatons. "So you are all muggleborn?" he guessed.

They nodded in response.

"Why didn't you leave?" He returned his gaze to Granger, who looked close to tears. "The wards are not insurmountable, I imagine you could have won your freedom. "

"Why didn't you leave during the last war?" She stared him down, her eyes hard. "Freedom is still the most radical idea of all, is it not, Professor? Would I have been truly free if I had abandoned my students for my own safety? I'm the only thing preventing the little monsters out there from killing each other." He avoided her gaze. Granger had always been too smart by half.

"So, how do we get out of this mess?" He noticed for the first time how bone-weary the entire group looked. He was taken aback when a student suddenly hurled herself at him. "Oh Professor Snape, I'm so glad you're here. Please hold me in your strong arms!" she wailed, pressing her body against his. Severus had had quite enough of being manhandled by teenaged girls and struggled valiantly to remove her from his person.

"Leanne," Granger's voice was firm. "Control yourself. Remember your mantra."

Miraculously, the girls' arms dropped from around him.

"Go to your cubicle." Granger pointed firmly toward the far end of the library. The girl gave a stifled sob and fled. "All of you." Granger looked around. "Go and meditate…now."

She turned back to him as the students scattered. "We feed off each other," she answered his unspoken question. "We're quite rational whilst alone, but the more time we spend together, the more it spreads. It becomes almost impossible to control our impulses."

She bent over a nearby table, rummaging through haphazardly stacked piles of paper and books. "I have a formula for a possible cure." She handed him a parchment, covered in her small neat script. He scanned her working, taken aback by the agility of her mind.

"This potion is easily within your capabilities, Granger." He scowled up at her. "Why haven't you put an end to this farce already?"

She returned his glare. "Because, Professor, the potions lab is in _that_ tower." She stalked to the window and pointed to the far side of the castle. "And it's a bloody warzone out there."

Severus assessed the distance, his eyes flicking between Granger and the window. The quadrangle below was filled with students, all of whom seemed intent on setting either each other or the castle on fire. There was no way he and Granger could make their way safely through. Which only left... Before he could talk himself out of his reckless plan, he scooped her into his arms and dove through the open window. She screamed as their bodies became insubstantial smoke and Severus gritted his non-existent teeth in irritation. A few students fired curses at them, which he easily avoided and, moments later, they crashed through the window of the potions lab.

He landed hard on top of Granger who, instead of releasing him, wound her arms more tightly around his neck.

"Oh Severus," she breathed. "I'm so glad you're here. I knew you would come for me; I just knew it."

Severus was quite undone by the pressure of her soft mouth against his and he kissed her back, their mission entirely forgotten. It became imperative that he let her know how he felt; he couldn't contain the words a moment longer.

"I would never let anything happen to you." He tangled his fingers in her horrible hair; it really did feel like a brillo pad. "Without you my life would mean nothing." He kissed her again, revelling in the sheer glory of her lips against his, until he realised she was pushing him away.

"Severus, stop."

He drew back, dazed.

"Don't you see, it's the hysteria! We're feeding off each other!" She held his face in her small hands, warm brown eyes pleading with his. "You don't have much time. We have to stop this. We have to save the students."

He began to brew with more speed, accuracy and dramatic flair than he had ever previously exhibited. Granger watched, sometimes giggling coquettishly as he wielded the stirring rod particularly flamboyantly or when he tossed a beaker like a barman with a cocktail shaker. In no time at all, the potion was ready and she tilted her head back seductively in order to take a few drops from the pipette he held above her plump lips. The effect was nearly instantaneous. She gave a shriek of horror and clutched at her throat, emitting horrific gasping noises, her eyes streaming with tears. Finally she raised her head. "Oh my god," she whispered, looking down at her bare midriff. "What in Merlin's name am I wearing, and who on earth pierced my belly button?"

* * *

Harry Potter flipped closed his Aurors' notebook with an officious snap. "I think I have all the details I need. Hermione, Severus." He nodded at them both. "There have been a few more outbreaks across Europe, but with your antidote we've managed to contain them. It was a stroke of genius to convert it to an aerosol form."

"Do you know where the curse originated from?" Severus still found Potter's admiration difficult to accept.

The boy nodded. "It was developed by a Bulgarian ex- Death Eater. His son was part of the Durmstrang Tri-Wizard team and was already infected when he arrived at the school. It was a good thing that Minerva sent you in, Severus." He smiled across at the headmistress. "The Dark Mark appears to confer immunity. Without it you wouldn't have been able to stay sane long enough to brew the antidote."

Time stood still for Severus as a thousand horrible realisations hit him at once. He was immune. Everything he had done, everything he had said…He looked at Granger in horror. Dressed once more in her voluminous teaching robes, she was staring at him open-mouthed. Without a word he stood and billowed out the headmistress's office.

"Professor… Severus… Wait!"

He ignored her, almost running.

"Severus, please stop." There was a little break in her voice that he couldn't ignore. She came to a halt in front of him, breathing heavily, her eyes wide.

"I really did know you would come for me." Her voice was small, but certainty blazed in her brown eyes. He stared at her wordless and terrified. She reached out and tentatively touched his hand. "Did you mean it?" she asked.

"Mean what?"

"That your life would mean nothing without me."

He clenched his jaw and his fists, contemplating running once more. Could he really admit to her that he, too, had been worried when she disappeared, that _he_ had manipulated Minerva into sending him after her, that the thought of anything happening to her had made him feel physically sick? When he had thought himself under the influence of the curse it had been so easy to let his feelings out, but now he couldn't risk her rejection or her ridicule. But she was still clutching his fingers and looking at him with such warmth and anxiety and… _hope_. He couldn't be responsible for dampening that flame. Almost as if of its own volition, his head gave a brief nod, and suddenly his arms were full of the warm, wriggling witch as she peppered the parts of his face she could reach with kisses.

* * *

 _Nine years later..._

Severus joined his wife at the window and together they looked out over the rolling lawn, littered with glittering fountains. In the distance, Madame Maxime and Hagrid strolled together. The sound of muffled laughter floated across the warm air from the dormitories where this year's Tri-Wizard competitors were too excited to sleep.

"Are you glad you came back?" He rubbed his nose against her familiar brown curls.

She turned to smile at him. "Yes, and I'm glad I came the first time. If it hadn't been for my cursed trip, I wouldn't have you." She raised the hem of her blouse giving him a mischievous smile. "Or this." A tiny green-eyed snake nestled in the hollow of her still-pierced belly button.

He brushed his fingers across the ornament. "Who knows what might happen this time?"

She gave a contented sigh and leaned back against him. "The possibilities are endless."


	2. Potion Masters do it in the Dungeon

Team: Pride of Portree

Position: Chaser one

Task: Write about a witch or wizard trying to explain to a magical child how (one or more) Muggle technology works.

Prompts: Broken torch

Motor

Microwave

Word count without A/N: 2085

Thanks so much to my team mates for beta reading for me.

* * *

 **Potion Masters Do It in the Dungeon**

Hermione woke up full of first-day-of-the-summer-holidays joy. She stretched lazily; arching her spine and encroaching onto the far side of the bed. Surprised when her groping fingers encountered only empty space; she cranked open an eyelid. Her husband was gone; a head-shaped depression on his pillow the only indication that he had ever lain beside her. She starfished across the vacant sheets and caught sight of a cup of tea on her bedside table. A wisp of steam curled up from the mug, frozen in place by a stasis charm.

She propped herself up against the pillows, wincing slightly at the slight headache which lingered behind her eyes. It had been such a good party the night before. All her friends had gathered together at the The Burrow to celebrate the end of the school term and she hadn't been able to resist that final glass of champagne. She reached for the cup of tea, smiling at the words on the mug: _potion masters do it in the dungeon._

She had only taken a few restorative sips when she heard the creak of footsteps on the stairs. She fully expected the bedroom door to burst open and her husband or daughter or, quite possibly, both to spill into the room but, to her surprise, the bedroom door remained shut. Instead the footsteps moved towards the spare room.

"Don't you think we should wait for Mum?"

"I've told you, I am perfectly capable of explaining a simple piece of Muggle technology while your mother enjoys her rest." Severus Snape's distinctive baritone floated through the closed bedroom door.

"Really Dad, remember what happened with the microwave?"

"I believe that appliance may have been cursed."

Their voices faded as the door to the spare room was closed behind them. Hermione sat up a little straighter and reached for her wand. She cast a modified Sonorous charm; immediately the voices of her husband and daughter were as clear as if they stood in the room with her.

"It even looks a bit like a microwave."

"Will you stop going on about that?"

"I'm not going on, I'm just saying -"

"It would be in your best interests to cease with this particular line of observation if you wish to master this device today."

"Of course I wish to _master it_." Her imitation of her father was eerily accurate. " I need to get my holiday homework done, pronto."

"And why this sudden eagerness to complete your homework on the first day of the holidays?"

Hermione winced, it never bode well when her husband's voice took on that deceptively silky tone. Ellie clearly did not share her mother's insight into the mood of her father, or, if she did, she was not in the least troubled by his ire.

"Because Uncle Harry has just installed a full-size Quidditch pitch in his back garden," she squealed.

"You are aware, are you not, that that reprobate is not really your uncle?"

"Yes Daaaad-" Hermione sometimes wondered how their daughter had reached the age of fourteen with all her limbs intact given her incessant baiting of her father "-but that doesn't change the fact that James says I can come over and play every single day. I'll be Ravenclaw's youngest captain at this rate. "

"Indeed."

Despite the two closed doors that separated them, Hermione could clearly see Severus pinching the bridge of his nose.

"You do realise there will be no Quidditch until your holiday homework has been completed and checked by me?"

"Of course," Ellie's tone was positively gleeful. "So you see, the sooner I learn to use the computer the better. Then I can hang out with James and Lily all summer and you and Mum can mooch around in the basement doing whatever it is you do down there."

There were several beats of silence. Hermione wondered if Severus was throttling their only child, and if she ought to intervene. She was on the verge of getting out of bed when she heard his voice again.

"This is the monitor… and this is the central processing unit." He had adopted his lecturing tone, one which sent shivers down Hermione's spine. It was hardly _bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses_ , but still, that voice…

"Give it a rest, Dad. I need to learn how to surf the web, not become an electrical engineer." Clearly Ellie was less enamoured with her father's voice.

Severus gave an audible sigh. "Fine," he sounded resigned. "This large button initiates the start-up procedure."

"You mean it turns it on?"

"Yes."

There was a brief silence.

"It doesn't appear to be functioning. I wonder if your mother hexed it when it malfunctioned last weekend."

"Erm… I don't think it's plugged in."

"What?"

"You have to plug it in, Dad, so it gets electricity."

There was some muffled scraping then the sound of the motor which powered the fan whirring into life.

"Now we have to wait for the desktop interface to load."

"OK."

"What do you wish to use the computer for anyway?"

"Oh, I'm going to start with my Herbology homework. I'm doing a comparison of Muggle and Wizarding healing plants; Professor Longbottom says it sounds like a fascinating project." There was a dreamy note to her voice at the mention of Neville.

"Eileen Snape!"

"What?"

"That is not an appropriate manner in which to discuss your teacher. Professor Longbottom is old enough to be your father."

"You're old enough to be Mum's father, _and_ you were her teacher."

"That's beside the point! Your mother was well out of the schoolroom before I started courting her."

"Aunt Minnie says it was shocking how young Mum was when you got married."

"Might I remind you that that doddering old fool is not actually your aunt?"

"She was a witness at your wedding."

"Only because all my other friends were in Azkaban."

"She's my godmother."

"Your mother insisted. I can't stand the woman."

"She says it was obvious that Mum had a soft spot for you even when you were considered the greasy-haired bat of the dungeon."

"She can be remarkably observant at times. Ah, here we have the desktop interface. Now, we use this rodent to navigate our way around the screen."

"I think it's called a mouse, Dad."

"What?"

"I think it's called a mouse, not a rodent."

"If you say so. As _I_ was saying, we use this arrowhead to navigate around the screen. We select different runes, such as these, in order to engage the computer's various functions. What would you like to do first?"

"Can we go online? I told Fiona I'd e-mail her once I was home."

"You mean you wish to use the electronic mailing system?"

"Yes."

"Very well, just click twice on the envelope rune." There was a brief pause. "Sometimes if the device does not respond quickly I find it useful to click several more times."

"Er..I don't think you're supposed to do that Dad, it just opens the application multiple times and slows down the whole process."

There was a long silence during which Hermione sipped her tea and wished she had some biscuits.

"This is our mailbox. Ah, we have some unread messages." There were a few clicks, then the sound of a chair hitting the floor. "That is completely inappropriate! How dare they imply that I suffer from such problems-"

"Relax, Dad, it's just spam. Look, delete it and I'll reset your filter so you don't get junk like that anymore." There were some more clicks. "OK, so can you show me how to send an e-mail now?"

"Of course...once the message is open you use this device to transmit your message to the parchment on the screen. The cursive blocks are called keys, I have no idea why."

There was the sound of rapid tapping.

"You are remarkably swift at typing."

Ellie cleared her throat."Ah yes, I have very quick reflexes from all my Quidditch practice. Now, can you show me how to get on to Amazon, I want to buy a couple of books."

"Of course, the online shopping facilities are very impressive. So, you click here to engage the world wide spiderweb."

"I think it's just called the web, Dad."

"Please don't interrupt, Ellie, this is a complex procedure."

"Sorry."

"Now, we type in the address as so." There came the sound of laborious typing. "Then press the enter key." A button was hit with some vigour.

"Dad? What are all these things in your shopping basket?"

"These are items I have purchased. I must say, I have been waiting for quite some time for them to be delivered. The owls used by this service must be of an inferior variety."

"Dad, you haven't checked out yet. They're all just sitting in your basket."

"But I have selected them."

"Yes but you haven't paid for them. Have you even put in your credit card details?"

"My what?"

"Nevermind, Mum left her handbag in the hall-wait a moment."

Hermione heard the sound of Ellie running up and down the stairs. The rapid typing came again.

"Right, I've registered mum's card and switched on one-click ordering. That's you checked out. Shall we have a look at the plant section?"

"I suppose so, as long as you are truly driven by a love of your subject matter and not of your teacher."

"You're hardly one to talk. Marjorie Goyle is always turning in extra-long potions essays in the hope of stealing you away from Mum."

"That is utter nonsense, young lady. I do nothing to encourage such an infatuation, and even if my head were so easily turned, your mother's essays were often feet longer than requested, no woman could possibly usurp her."

Hermione felt a warm glow somewhere in the vicinity of her heart, she knew he'd secretly admired the additional effort she put into her schoolwork.

There were more clicking sounds and Severus made several indelicate squawks over the cost of books.

"Ok, thanks Dad. That should keep me going for a while. Can you show me how to write an essay now?"

There were more clicks accompanied by Severus's lecturing tone and Ellie's soft voice. Hermione gave a deep yawn and cancelled the Sonorus charm. She might as well catch up on some extra sleep since the two of them seemed so happily engaged.

Several hours later, feeling rather guilty over her slovenliness, she made her way down to the kitchen. Ellie was hunched over the table fiddling with a screwdriver and a broken torch.

"Morning Mum." She glanced up at Hermione, before returning to her task. "Uncle Arthur managed to smash the bulb, I think I can repair it if I just-" she broke off to tap the torch with her wand, it flickered briefly and then went out again.

"You do know that that Muggle-loving fool isn't really your uncle?" Hermione's impression of Severus was not nearly as good as her daughter's.

Ellie sniggered anyway. "So-" she got up and planted a kiss on Hermione's cheek "-I believe you owe me five Galleons."

"What?" Hermione filled the kettle.

"Don't you pretend, Mother." Ellie fixed her with Severus' patented scowl. "I spent two hours playing dumb this morning, it was painful."

Hermione looked around covertly. "Where's your father?" she hissed.

"He's in the basement, probably brewing up some sort of boyfriend repellent potion. Honestly Mum, I don't know how you put up with him. He's so old fashioned." She pushed her curly black hair out of her eyes.

"Because he doesn't approve of your crush on a teacher? Really Ellie, what do you expect?"

"How did you know about that?" Ellie blushed.

Hermione tapped her nose. "Mother's intuition, and I happen to agree with your father; having a crush on your teacher is not appropriate. At least try to be less obvious about it!"

"Yes Mum." Ellie lounged against the counter. "Anyway, about those five galleons-"

"Did you show him the e-mail?"

"Yes."

"Amazon?"

"Yes."

"Word?"

"Yes and Excel; cough up!"

"What about eBay?"

"Seriously Mum, I'm in Ravenclaw, not Slytherin. Even I can't teach him to use eBay _and_ make him think it was his idea all along. I'm good but I'm not _that_ good."

Hermione dug in her purse and pulled out a small pile of gold. "Here's five galleons. If you get him playing _The Sims_ by the end of the summer I'll make it fifty."

"You're on." Ellie extended her hand and they gravely shook on it.


	3. The Spy who Loved Me

**A/N This fic was written for the Quidditch League Daily Prophet mini comp. Write a character fic inspired by the use of their signature spell.**

 **Team: Pride of Portree**

 **Position: Chaser 1**

 **Character: Hermione - Alohomora**

 **Additional Prompts: 12 pillow, 13 rat, 15 Contrary**

 **Word count: 1453**

 **A word of warning, this story is severely lacking in HEA** — **please don't hate me. Thanks to my wonderful team captain Story Please for her beta and to my team mates for their encouragement.**

* * *

 **The Spy Who Loved Me**

Hermione wasn't sure how long she had been Snape's prisoner. At first, she had lapsed in and out of consciousness; unknowing and uncaring if it were even night or day. Eventually, it became apparent that Severus Snape's comings and goings were the only way to keep track of time in her subterranean prison.

Even though she didn't quite know _when_ she was, at least she knew _where_. The glimmer of murky green water outside the only window told her that she was situated beneath the Black Lake, and the abundance of personal artefacts indicated that she was in Professor Snape's private rooms, directly adjacent to the potions classroom.

She didn't know much else. She didn't know if the school still lay in ruins; perhaps Snape was forced to lurk down there, like a rat refusing to leave its lair. Or if it had been rebuilt whilst she was unconscious, and Snape had chosen to retake the Headmaster's mantle; this time remaining in his old quarters. She could speculate as much as she liked, but she knew only two things. She was Snape's prisoner, and she hated him.

She had thought she had seen him die in front of her in the Shrieking Shack. But, when she awoke, bloody and bruised, her clothes in tatters, she had seen his pale face looming over hers, his eyes narrow as he assessed her injuries. She attempted to attack him, drawing on a tendency learned from Ron; to strike first and ask questions after. She had even drawn her wand from where it was miraculously still concealed within her sleeve. That was when the horror had truly begun. Her screamed " _Expelliarmus_!" resulted in nothing. Snape had stood back, arms folded, his lips contorted in a cruel sneer, as she flung every curse she knew at him. Nothing happened. Not even the smokey discharge of a failed spell -simply _nothing_.

In a panic, she ran to the door, pounding on it with her fists. When it didn't open she levelled her wand and cast one of the first spells she had learned. " _Alohomora_!"

Nothing.

"What have you done to me?" She dropped her wand, recognising it for the useless stick it had become, and threw herself at Snape, pummelling him with her fists. He parried her blows for a short while before knocking her backwards onto the floor with a blast of his own wand.

"I have done nothing," he sneered. "You lost your magic during the battle. I imagine you overtaxed your magical core. Now you are, for all intents and purposes, a squib."

Hermione stared at him in horror.

"Then why am I here?" she asked in a tiny voice.

Snape's scowl only darkened. "I would have thought the answer would be obvious to one of your robust intellect, Miss Granger. You are mine."

Hermione never asked for clarification of what exactly he meant by _mine_. Whilst not asking questions was contrary to her normal, inquisitive nature, she had learned that some things were better left unsaid.

Snape did not seek to enlighten her over the days that followed. She might as well have been a piece of furniture for all the attention he paid her. He was absent for most of the day, and only returned to sleep at night. Hermione had been terrified when he led her into the bedroom on her first night, but he had merely gestured in the direction of a small cot in the corner of the room before disappearing into the bathroom. She had climbed under the covers with all her clothes still on and spent the night sleepless and trembling, her useless wand clutched in her clammy fist.

Gradually, her fear turned to boredom. Snape refused to talk to her even when she pelted him with questions regarding her friends and the eventual outcome of the battle. It was clear that they had lost. She had seen Harry fall, and her presence here, as the prisoner of Severus Snape, further confirmed the defeat of the Light. Snape had enchanted his bookcases with some sort of repellent hex which threw her across the room whenever she approached it. Her only entertainment was covetously reading the titles from a safe distance. By the end of the first week, she knew every title and their places by heart.

She began to fantasise about killing Snape in his sleep; pressing a pillow over his ugly face until his thin chest stopped moving. She might have acted on her fantasy, but for the fact that she would then be trapped in his rooms forever and would eventually die without him to bring the meagre rations he delivered each evening.

Still, attacking him seemed like her only resort, and, one day she lay in wait by the side of the door, ready to pounce as soon as he entered. Their tussle was short-lived. It took him only moments to subdue her. She found herself pressed forcibly against the wall, his hard wiry body against hers, his hot breath on her neck. As he held her there; helpless, she saw something in his face which terrified her. There was something greedy and covetous in his eyes; something dark and possessive and utterly terrifying. That something only increased her desperation to escape. The moment passed; he shuttered his gaze and dropped her to the floor before he swept back out of the room.

She clutched her wand. There was no time to lose. She had to leave, had to get away from this man who epitomised all that was evil. She aimed her wand at the lock.

" _Alohomora_."

Nothing.

" _Alohomora_."

Nothing.

She closed her eyes and imagined Snape's face and the way he had looked at her as he held her against the wall.

" _Alohomora_."

The lock clicked. She bolted through the door—

—and made it halfway down the dungeon corridor before Snape's _Stupify_ hit her.

" _Rennervate_."

She rubbed her aching head, looking around her as she did so. At least she wasn't back in Snape's chambers. She appeared to be in the Headmaster's study. Snape stood in the corner, his wand trained on her, her own held in his free hand.

"Look." He gestured toward the Pensieve in the corner of the room, flicking his wand menacingly when she hesitated. She had no choice but to lower her face into the silvery liquid.

She gasped. She was back in _his_ rooms, with Snape, but her memory self was standing much closer to the dark wizard than Hermione knew she ever would have dared.

"I won't do it, Hermione," his voice was ragged. She had never heard him sound like that before.

"Please, Severus." She grabbed onto his forearms. "It's the only way. Poppy says the block is mental, that I need some sort of extreme stimulus to restart my magic."

"Then ask Potter or Weasley to play the villain, I won't—" He grasped her face in his hands "—I won't risk losing you."

"You've already lost me." Her face was stricken. "I'm a Squib, Severus. I can't live like this. I don't trust anyone else to do it; it has to be you. It can _only_ be you."

They stared at each other for a long time; Hermione felt almost as if she were intruding on her own memory, such was the intensity of their interaction. Finally, Severus bent down and kissed her, his eyes closed. His face wore a look of surrender.

"Very well, I will do as you ask."

"Thank you, Severus," she told him. "Please don't be afraid, I will always love you."

Hermione jerked herself out of the memory and landed awkwardly on the floor of the Headmaster's study. Unwillingly, she looked up at Snape.

"How long—"

"It has been two years since the war ended."

"And we—"

"We married about a year ago!"

"No!" She buried her face in her hands

"Hermione." He took a few hesitant steps toward her. "You asked me to do this, to _Obliviate_ you, to frighten you…to help you." His face was studiously blank, but his eyes...there was something in them she couldn't allow herself to see.

Hermione scrambled to her feet. "I'm sorry," she looked at Snape, at his pale pinched face, his greasy hair, his oversized beak of a nose. "I appreciate what you've done for me, but I'm not that girl in the Pensieve. I don't know you, I don't love you, I don't even _like_ you." She snatched her wand back from him. "I have to get out of here." She ignored his outstretched hand and the broken way he said her name as she barged past his motionless figure and fled.


	4. Strictly Come Severus

Team:Pride of Portree

Position: Chaser 1

Written for the Quidditch league round ten.

Write a story inspired by the song _One Sweet Day_ by Mariah Carey and Boyz II Men.

Optional prompts: 1. (location) Godric's Hollow; 4. (Dialogue) How could you possibly think that was a good idea? 13. (word count) 2000

Word count before A/N 2000 according to Google Docs

A/N 1. Strictly Come Dancing is a massively popular UK television show where celebrities are paired up with professional dancers in order to learn a variety of Latin and Ballroom dances. It has become such a huge part of British culture that I decided it ought to have a fanfic written in its honour. I believe there is a US equivalent called Dancing with the Stars. The Christmas special is often on Boxing Day or the 27th of December depending on when the final has been.

A/N 2. I know that all of the time turners were supposed to have been destroyed, however in Cursed Child reference was made to Lucius Malfoy having an illegal one; he probably had much more nefarious uses for it than Severus.

Thanks to Oni and Sarah for beta reading.

* * *

Strictly Come Severus

"How could you possibly think _that_ was good idea?" Severus Snape stormed through the door in full Potions master's billow. Hermione wondered how he managed to maintain such a façade of gusting fabric when dressed only in trousers and a plain woollen jumper. She had frequently checked his clothes for enchantments but had found no evidence of magically enhanced tailoring. She sighed in exasperation and fully turned her attention to her irate husband.

It _had_ seemed like a marvellous idea two-thirds of the way down a bottle of Merlot, and snuggled up with Ginny in the perennially cold library of Grimmauld Place. They had been watching _Strictly Come Dancing_ on the charmed TV.

"I wish I could dance like that." Ginny gazed wistfully at the screen. "I can just see me and Harry doing the foxtrot."

Hermione bit her tongue. She didn't mention that keeping Harry's glasses in one piece had been a full time job for her during their schooldays. Instead, she allowed her vision to blur slightly, mentally replacing the dancers on the screen with herself and Severus. The mirage was so enchanting that when Ginny said, "We should go for lessons!" Hermione had found herself smiling and agreeing.

The location of the only available rhumba class—in Godric's Hollow—should have been an omen, Hermione thought. Severus's point-blank refusal to even set foot in the village let alone in a dance class should have put an end to things.

But it didn't.

Hermione wheedled and connived and begged and spent two days sorting Flobberworms in order to secure her husband's attendance at the much maligned class.

"This place is full of Muggles," Severus hissed.

" _I'm_ a Muggle," Hermione hissed back. "And you're a half-blood so get off your high horse."

"It's not a matter of being on my high horse." He looked around, scowling. "But why on earth would I want to learn _Muggle_ dances?"

"Because _I_ want to learn Muggle dances." Hermione slipped her arm around his waist and looked up into his inky eyes, detecting the hint of softness there which was only for her.

He had ceased his complaining then, his arm coming around her possessively as the students were asked to introduce themselves by the instructor — a rather dashing looking Spaniard named Javier. Hermione had waved at Harry and Ginny when they entered but made no move to join them. It was quite enough that Severus was attending the class in the village where Lily and James had lived and died without inflicting the company of the Boy-Who-Lived upon him as well.

Things hadn't started off too badly. Javier had walked them through a few basic steps. The Walks, Spot turns, Basic Movements and Cucarachas had gone reasonably well. Admittedly, Severus looked as though he had swallowed something particularly foul as he danced, but he was there making an effort, and he wasn't nearly as clumsy as Harry, who had upended Ginny twice already.

Then the music started.

"What on earth is this drivel?" Severus stopped dead in the middle of the dance floor causing the couple behind them to crash into Hermione. He scowled darkly at them.

"It's Boyz II Men," she told him, leading him forward which earned her a glare from Javier who had been very clear on the matter of which partner ought to lead the dance.

"Boyz II Men? What a ridiculous name…and what is that dreadful caterwauling?"

"That's Mariah Carey." Hermione desperately steered him into a Cucaracha.

"Does she have some sort of medical condition? She sounds like your feline when I accidentally tread on his tail."

"No, that's just how she sings; she's very popular." Hermione glanced around, desperately hoping nobody was listening to their conversation. To her great relief, the music stopped.

"Now," Javier told them, "this is a song of great passion, and great sorrow."

"The only sorrow is that it was ever written," Severus muttered.

Hermione kicked him.

"I want to see you touch your partner with real emotion. Gentlemen, caress her body as if she is the most precious thing you have ever touched."

Hermione looked expectantly at Severus who was staring at her in abject horror.

"I'm not touching you like that."

"Why not?" Hermione felt herself blush. "You don't normally object to touching me, and last night you—"

"That was in the privacy of our own home." Severus winced at the sight of Harry enthusiastically groping Ginny. "Such activities are not for public performence."

Hermione was almost grateful as the music started up again.

"You know the writer clearly knew nothing of the afterlife," Severus said, making a valiant effort to caress the floor with his foot.

"What makes you say that?" Hermione could barely speak as she was enthusiastically bent backwards at a spine-crunching angle.

"Because, had there been such a depth of unresolved feeling between Ms Carey and her unfortunate friend, he or she would have remained a ghost, allowing her to serenade them endlessly in her own inimitable style." He winced as Mariah struck a particularly high note.

"Oh." Hermione had never really considered the lyrics before.

"Merlin, get me some cotton wool," Severus complained as the song reached its admittedly-ear-splitting climax and he steered her through a series of Progressive Walks.

"You know this song was very popular when we were in school," Hermione said. "It topped the chart in America for sixteen weeks."

"Dunderheads."

And so it went on for the entire ninety minutes of the long awaited class. The irony was that, when he was distracted from his unholy hatred of Mariah Carey, Severus was actually rather an adept dancer. Hermione longed to enjoy the dancing without the mingled soundtrack of Boyz II Men and Severus Snape complaining.

The fight that had ensued upon their arrival home had been short and vicious and had resulted in Severus spending a long and penitent night on the lumpy couch in the living room.

A week later, he had watched in silence as Hermione changed into her specially purchased jazz pants and leg warmers and packed her shoes and a bottle of water into a rucksack.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm going to our dance class."

Severus folded his arms across his chest. "I made my feelings on that _particular_ form of entertainment quite plain, Hermione."

"I know that, _Severus_." She took a handful of Floo Powder from the pot on the mantelpiece. "That's why I'm going on my own. Javier says he will partner me if there aren't any single men." She felt a thrill of vindictive pleasure at the look on her possessive husband's face as she stepped into the floo.

Ninety minutes later, she was unsurprised to find Severus wearing out the rug in front of the fireplace.

"How was your class?"

Hermione gave a tired sigh. "It was fine, thank you."

"Did you find a partner?"

"Yes I did."

"And was he…acceptable?"

"Yes, he was fine."

"Then why do you look so unhappy?"

She sighed again. "Because I didn't want to dance with just anybody, Severus. I wanted to dance with _you_."

She walked past him into the bathroom, closing and locking the door firmly behind her.

* * *

It was Christmas Eve and Hermione tumbled, slightly tipsily, out of the floo. She and Ginny had been watching the thrilling climax of ' _Strictly_.' Hermione looked around the usually sparsely furnished living room in confusion. It was warmly lit by hundreds of candles and the sofas had been pushed back against the wall to create a small dance floor.

"Severus?" Hermione called uncertainly, wondering what in Merlin's name was going on.

There was no response, but to her surprise music began to play. To her even greater surprise it was the dulcet tones of Mariah Carey mingled with those of Boyz II Men. Her husband stepped through the doorway and Hermione gasped. It would have been a step too far to expect Severus Snape to eschew his habitual black, but he _had_ invested in a pair of form fitting tuxedo pants and a matching silk shirt. His freshly washed hair was tied back from his face in a style favoured by Javier. He looked only mildly self-conscious as he strode across the room and offered her his hand.

"May I have this dance, Madam Snape?"

Hermione smiled and dropped her handbag on the floor as she reached out to place her fingers in his.

"You may," she said.

* * *

"So tell me again exactly what happened?"

Hermione was once more snuggled under a blanket on the moth eaten couch at Twelve Grimmauld Place. The Christmas special of _Strictly Come Dancing_ was about to start and Harry had been dispatched to Muggle London to source a Chinese takeaway.

In response to Ginny's question, Hermione rolled her eyes and prepared to retell her story.

"Well, I got home the other day and Severus had set up this whole romantic scene, candles, dance floor, he'd even dressed himself up like a proper Latin dancer." Hermione pretended not to see Ginny's grimace at the thought of the austere Potions master revealing his more sensual side. Ginny tolerated Hermione's relationship with Severus with remarkable sangfroid, but that didn't mean she liked to imagine that he and Hermione did anything more in the comfort of their own home than brew potions and examine rare texts.

"And then what happened?" Ginny's squeamishness regarding Snape was clearly overcome by her curiosity.

"Well he put on _that_ song that was playing in the first class, you know, the Boyz II Men one."

"Oh yes, _'I know you're smiling down on me from heaven…'_ " Ginny wailed causing Hermione to clap her hands over her ears.

"Yes, that's the one," she agreed. "Please don't ever sing in front of me again, Gin."

"I won't if you tell me the rest of the story." Ginny was sitting forward on the couch, hands resting on her knees like an enraptured child.

"So then he asked me to dance, but he was amazing, Ginny. I couldn't believe how good he'd become."

Ginny frowned. "He didn't seem bad, but he wasn't _that_ good at the class we went to."

"I know, but after I told him how important it was to me that we dance together, he started taking lessons secretly. He's been practicing every day." She lowered her voice. "He even borrowed an illegal time turner from Lucius Malfoy so he could make more time to practice. No wonders he's been exhausted recently, he's been putting in sixteen hour days!"

"Woah." Ginny's brown eyes were like saucers. "Don't tell Harry that part; I don't think he'd approve of two Ex-Death Eaters playing around with a time-turner."

Hermione waved a hand airily. "Oh I'm not worried about that, neither of those two want to bring back Voldemort; their lives are much too comfortable with him safely dead."

"You're probably right." Ginny took a sip of her hot chocolate, and wiped the whipped cream moustache from her upper lip. "Well I have to admit it, Hermione, Snape may be a greasy git but he certainly knows how to woo a lady when it suits him."

"Yes," Hermione agreed, avoiding Ginny's eye and biting her lower lip.

"So what's the problem?" Ginny instantly picked up on her friend's discomfort.

"Well, it's great that he wants to be romantic and everything, I really do appreciate the effort he's gone to…"

"But," Ginny prompted.

"It's just, he thinks I really love that song"—she held up a hand to prevent Ginny from exercising her dubious vocal talents again—"we've listened to it every day since Christmas Eve. He's always humming it, he even puts it on when we…well, _you know_."

Ginny shrugged. "So what? It's a great song; it was Billboard's most successful song of the 1990's after all."

Hermione bit her lip again. "I know, Ginny, and it's lovely that Severus is making an effort; that's why I don't have the heart to tell him that I actually can't think of a song I hate more!"


End file.
